The Evil Manga
by YaoiFanL
Summary: When Alfred was given a manga as a gift, one made specifically for him, one where he was the hero, he was oblivious to the trap. Now, he found himself literally sunk into the manga, needing to become the hero in order to survive. And the fact that some other lives - more importantly, England's - were on the line too wasn't of any help. [Full summary inside due to lack of space.]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Here's my new fic!

**Full summary:**

_Every country had a dark side. During the World Wars, the evil side of every country grew more and more until it became a physical being. For once, the states united to fight a common enemy - the ones they called the Parallel Nations or 2p. After an exhausting battle, the Magic Trio managed to throw a powerful curse at them and lock them forever. However, they forgot one thing...all three of them had counterparts among the Parallels, 2p that hold the same skills as them. _

_Many years after, a few of the Parallels broke free. It was time for them to take over the world and destroy their originals. And what better way than locking them into a universe where they held no power and then crush them like worms? After all, everyone knew about America's love for comics, manga and heroes. When Alfred was given a manga as a gift, one made specifically for him, one where he was the hero, he was oblivious to the trap. Now, he found himself literally sunk into the manga, needing to become the hero in order to survive. And the fact that some other lives - more importantly, England's - were on the line too wasn't of any help. But perhaps it was better that he wasn't all alone._

**Notes:**

**F-15C** \- American aircraft Fighter. As far as I've read, no one managed to take any F-15C down, although other aircrafts are known to be stronger than this fighter.

**Copy** \- Hear, understand

**Over** \- something along the lines of 'I finished my report and I'm waiting for a reply'.

**Out** \- something along the lines of 'I finished my report and I'm not waiting for a reply'.

**GBU-39** \- Rockets that are best carried by a F-15C. They're small compared to others but dangerous nonetheless.

**Target out** \- target down, target eliminated

**Standby** \- wait for further orders, don't attack again until further orders

**Roger** \- I understood, I heard you

I didn't add more military terms to avoid confusions. I suppose these ones are the most largely known.

The flashbacks have dates at the top (written in italics). You'll see what I'm talking about.

**_Enjoy!_**

* * *

**Chapter I**

_Happy Birthday, America-san!_

Said nation stared at the box lying in front of his door. April set out only a few days ago, yet he already received his present. Well… three months didn't mean so much, right? A cheerful smile emerged on America's face as he nodded to the convenient logic. With the excitement of a kid, he picked up the gift and brought it to his ear. A shake caused a dull noise. Eyebrows knitted together as if it would have helped guessing the content of the box. Another shake. By the sound of it, it must have been something thin and solid. With the same excitement, the American rushed inside, shutting the door with his foot in the progress. He didn't need any scissors to rip off the packing paper. His eyes widened at the sight: a comic. No, a manga – that was definitely Japan's style. But more importantly, he was on its cover, posing victoriously.

"Dude, this is way too awesome!"

Being the hero in a manga confirmed him that he was on the right path to become a real hero. People already considered him one! Well, apparently Japan did – the others would do so soon. Still, he made a mental note to tell the brunet how great that was. America flickered through the manga… and all the color drained from his face. He was positive he had spotted a ghost there. Turning the page back, ever so slowly, his fear was confirmed. He shut it closed. He needed – not that he would have put it that way – to read it with.

* * *

…_I'm only getting started,_

_I won't blackout!_

_Let's go a little harder,_

_I wo-_

"Hello?" A muffled voice, drowned into sleepiness, answered the phone. While he didn't really have a problem with waking up early, getting a call in the middle of the night didn't classified as one of England's favourite activities. If someone had felt like pulling a prank on him – _again_ -, someone was going to have a very unpleasant surprise later.

"Guess what! Guess what!"

The Brit had to detach the phone from his ear to avoid getting his eardrums crushed by the shrill. Had it been anyone else, he would have hung up immediately. But America… well, America was an exception.

"Can't it wait until the morning?"

An exception didn't mean that he was willing to have a useless conversation at such an impossible hour. For God's sake, it ticked 2 a.m.!

"No!" Despite the riotous voice, he could almost see the American's pout. "I got a manga!"  
"That's wonderful. I'm sure Japan would love to hear about it. Good n-"

"Artie, hear me out! I'm the hero!"

"I know." Having an argument about whether America was indeed a hero or not was always pointless and time consuming. Which was mainly the reason he didn't argue.

"No, no, you don't! I'm also in the manga! I'm its hero!"

"Excellent."

"So can you come over? Never mind, I'm almost there anyone. Uhm… do you have a spot to land on?"

"Land?" Now it started to sound worrisome. "America, what are you planning to-"

England didn't get to finish his question as he jumped in a sitting position. He gaped at the wall, the very wall that had the front of a plane stuck into. Moreover, a military plane. His worries proved rightful. He blinked once, then twice. Alfred hadn't really 'landed' in his wall, had he? He couldn't have been so reckless, could he? Let alone the damage of the room, it could have been a supporting wall, which could have leaded to the house to fall.

"Ya know, it's dark around here. You could use some more lights." The younger nation jumped off the pilot seat and pulled out the manga with a gleeful smile. "Ready?"

"You bloody _git_!" The confused expression he received as a response suggested well enough that the intruder didn't see the issue. "You don't just fly through peoples' walls!" England moved his hands to emphasize his point. He took a sharp breath, attempting to calm down. It was useless. "Of course it's dark, it's 2 in the morning."

"But the lights are out…"

Without waiting for an invitation – or even permission -, America hopped onto the bed. He slipped behind the other, his legs on each of Arthur's sides and arms stretched out forwards, holding the manga. "Here we go!" And so he turned the first page. Then the second and so on. He had to admit it had an interesting plot and an amazing hero, but the antagonist still made him feel uncomfortable. He shifted a little, hesitating to turn another page.

"It's a ghost story, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but that's not why I came!" A moment of silence and a bored expression told him that England didn't believe a word. With a childish pout, the American rested his chin on the other's shoulder. "I'm no longer afraid of ghosts…" An obvious lie.

Eventually, he gathered his courage and turned the page. Despite knowing it was there, he still startled at the sight of the ghoul. Then the unexpected occurred. None of them knew exactly what, how or why it happened, but they found themselves up in the air and falling down rapidly.

* * *

_June 24, 2018_

"_F-15C-2 to Hawk. Do you copy? I repeat, do you copy? Over."_

"Loud and clear. Over."

"_Clear vision on the target." _The pilot chuckled._ "Two GBU-39 packed and ready for that bastard. I require permission. Over."_

"Burn his ass. Over."

"_Roger that. Out." _A deafening noise confirmed that the bomb hit something solid._ "F-15C-2. Target out. Over."_

"Copy that. Retreat and standby. Out and over." The American checked his weapon. "Ground R, move forward. I repeat, move forward now. Hawk over and out."

As instructed, the Ground R squad advanced towards the tanks. Dust shot up, making it hard to see anything. Hey, at least, the enemy couldn't see much either. Muffled shouts filled their ears as they approached. Anticipating possible survivors, some of the troops kept their distance from the tanks, riffles ready to kill on sight. The stifling smoke disappeared bit by bit, the image of a burning vehicle coming into view. Alfred smirked, catching it for a split second. _Nice._ The balance would surely tip for them, he assumed. More noises mixed as more type of weapons were used. Aircrafts overflew in organized circles, looking out for any missing adversary – ground or sky – to destroy. Despite the fact that there didn't seem to be any left, it would have been too reckless to not have your back covered. That was a risk that the air chief marshal couldn't afford, moreover after the marshal crashed.

Then another one of their aircrafts was shot down. It collapsed within seconds; poor pilot didn't even have the time try to get out. It alarmed the others. Where did that come from? They looked around for any airforce, being convinced that it was that kind of projectile. No. Nothing. So they looked down. There, hidden by a thick layer of dust and buried between destroyed vehicles, some tanks continued to attack, taking down the Bombers and Fighters one by one. Twenty out of two hundred tanks were only scratched, but in the full-battle mode. Soldiers climbed out of the armoured tanks. Smaller planes joined them soon, chasing their NATO correspondents, as well as the ground troops.

The balance didn't tip as Alfred predicted. The image he was facing now was nothing like he planned. He frowned – the real fight just started.

* * *

_June 25, 2018_

With his hands locked behind and a stern face, Ivan inspected the remained ground and airforces from the last battle. The casualties had been rather high – higher than he would have liked, yet not high enough to surprise him. Ever since the Cold War, he had been paying attention to the other nations' armies, to their power and number. Strategy was hard to spy at without having an actual war going on. Iraq, Iran and Syria had given him the opportunity to study USA a little, but he wasn't the one to lie on that alone. It could have been very well just a show off to remember people that they were still up and about, ready to defeat anyone in their way. Well, it kind of worked. Ivan simply didn't buy the peace, equality, freedom and any other shitty lie they had told. Economy and spectacle. That was all it had been about. A caution part of his mind had been constantly whispering him that the silent warning was mostly directed to Russia. He chose to ignore that only partly.

Either way, yesterday's events proved him that he had been right to keep an eye on the Americans. Them and any other NATO country.

Half wrecked, half functional, the tanks he was so proud of stood lined up in front of him. Aircrafts were right behind them, more or less affected. Most of them needed to be fixed. No problem. He had more resources than those.

"Brother?"

The straight line of his lips curled into a sweet smile. A honest one. It was nice to know that someone was truly concerned about his well-being out of love and not politics. Belarus had taken her love overboard for years, to a terrifying level in fact, but still. And who else could he trust if not his sisters?

* * *

_Present day_

"Get off!"

Classifying falling down from the sky, literally, as an unpleasant experience was an understatement. Having another person, larger than himself, was only making it worse. Arthur could confirm it. If he hadn't broken any bone due to the falling, Alfred must have crushed something by landing on him. After the additional weight was lifted from his body, the Brit got on his feet and dusted himself.

"Where are we?"

"Dude, can't you tell?" Alfred spun around, holding out his arms. He had a large grin on his face, his eyes sparkling with excitement. What was so great about being there was beyond Arthur. "We're in the forest!"

England sighed. Of course they were in a forest, he didn't mean the question like that. Exotic trees rose up around them like some kind of threatening giants, allowing lianas to hang randomly like some limbs reaching down to catch the intruders. Thick moss lay on most trunks, a dirty green mixed with a hint of yellow. It seemed to stretch on the ground too, for it covered some spots beneath their feet, as well. Apart from that, there were only dust, some mud from place to place and different herbs. Sharp leaves and branches reached up from within the bushes filling the space between the trees. All in all, it looked like some kind of an exotic forest… no, like a jungle.

"I can see that. But where exactly are we?"

"I just told you, dude. In the forest."

Arthur rubbed a spot between his eyebrows. This was getting them no where.

"Which means… I'm officially the hero here! I wonder if I can fly!"

"I highly doubt it. It only happens in comics."

"Exactly! This _is_ a comic. You know, the page we turned?"

"That's impossible." Arthur contradicted after a moment of thinking. He might have napped a little during the comic, true, but it still didn't make sense. Then again, America didn't always make sense. For a second, he thought it was a dream, but his sore ass reminded him that the falling felt real. Unpleasantly real. Even so, his reasoning remained. "By turning a page, you don-"

…Well, Alfred didn't seem to listen to him. He appeared to be too caught in his own happy moment, commenting about this mess more enthusiastically than about anything else lately. This gave the elder the opportunity to check their surroundings and find a way out of this jungle. However, the trees were so tall that they blocked any sight of the sky, while the plants were so thick that they denied access to any other area. At a closer look, there was a narrowed path leading... somewhere. And next to it, a bush shivering. Bushes don't move. Bushes don't have eyes, either. Crimson red concentrated into an oval shape stared at them from between the small branches. One could have overlooked it, but not Arthur. He was too experienced in the art of war to overlook any details that might be convenient or dangerous. England tagged it as a potential danger. The eyes flickered to the side, then back at the Brit. That was enough to make him avert his gaze towards Alfred – the idiot who didn't notice the moving bush, nor the stare and was so cleverly heading towards it.

"C'mon, dude, this is the right path!" It was the only way, but it also leaded to the unknown spy.

"Wait a minute, there's someone in the bush."

As if to confirm his words, the bush startled. Something that Alfred caught on too. Instead of being suspicious, the American just grinned wider and thumbed up. "Don't worry, Artie, the hero's gonna protect you!"

It didn't reassure Arthur, really. As America kept getting closer, the leaves shivered again as the hidden creature shifted again. This time, however, the crimson eyes had a warning glare, the one of a wild animal ready to grab its prey. A low growl vibrated from its lungs as it pushed a limb out the bush. It was barely visible, the bloodied claws digging into the ground, drawing lines in preparation for an assault. Alfred either didn't see or didn't care to take into account, for he didn't stop. England was just about to warn him when a shallow noise echoed through the jungle. If anything, it sounded like a ghost from a horror movie. Mixed with the reminder the comic's antagonist and a more evident move of the bush, it made America jumped behind the older nation. He didn't get scared easily, but ghosts had always been freaking him out.

"Dude, is that a ghost?!"

He peeked from behind Arthur. He had his hands on the blond's shoulder as if to make sure he wasn't gonna be left alone with the ghoul – not that England ever let him down – and his eye lower just above said shoulders. In other circumstances, the Brit would have found it amusing how that fear was still so persisting.

"My hero…" It was Arthur's sarcastic reply, instead. Nevertheless, he was grateful that the American didn't get to close to whatever being waited patiently in the bush.

"Not funny, dude!" The younger whined, although the worry remained. "The bad guy's a ghost!"

The bush moved violently as the creature jumped out of it. With the agility of a predator, it landed a few meters from them, taking a pose which screamed danger at close range.

* * *

**_A/N:_ **_That's it for now. I hope you enjoyed it! Don't hesitate to **review** (that actually cheers me up a lot)__ Last but not least, this fic is inspired by the current political situation mixed with Hetalia facts. I dearly hope it won't get to certain points of this fic in real life! Regardless, I like this idea for a fic._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Happy Easter, everyone!** (I'm ortodox)

Secondly, see what happens when I'm happy? **Faster, longer updates!** 7k words - Shoot! Ahem. Right. So, I'd like to thank everyone who add my fic to favorites and/or alerts, as well as adding me. A huge thank you to _EverNightlands_ who made my day with her review!

A little British dictionary? Just in case: bugger - jerk; shite - shit. I thought Arthur would rather use the British word.

French: Pour le meilleur = For the best; Nous = We/us (here, us); Oui, c'est vrai, mais... = Yes, it's true, but...; toi = you

Also, did someone say fan-service? Sorry, not really. Yet. Well, just a little bit. But I'm thinking about some funny, sexy fan-service for the next chapter. What do you think? *wink, wink*

Thirdly, in the flashbacks, the characters might seem a little OOC, a little (or more)... radical than they are. Some Dark Hetalia stuffs. But war is war and let's face it - people act differently during war. They take more radical decision. 'Desperate times ask for desperate measure' and 'Everything is fair in war (and love)', right? I wouldn't put much below them in such times. Then again, there's another reason for part of their behavior, but I'd ruin everything if I gave it away now.

Also, the personifications are the ones ruling their nations. Call it martial law, if you like. The main reason, though, is that I didn't want to get real people involved (Obama, Putin, Ma Ying-Jeou (I hope I got it right), Gauck, Merkel, Poroshenko and so on). I don't want to influence any opinions about the current international situation and I'm not saying that USA or Russia is right. Or anyone else. It's politics, you never know the truth behind, you can only know what media says (which, may I add, is just what the politicians want you to know). That being said, while based on the current conflict, whatever is going on in this fic is purely fictional (the spies, the attacks, the strategies, the sides and alliances etc). Well, the relationships between the characters in Hetalia play a role in this too. Anyway, any resemblance with real people is pure coincidence.

Just wanted to clear that out, okay?

One more thing, I'll say this now: any OC that will appear is there for the sole purpose of helping with the plot. None would become the main character. Also, I do not intend any real romance between APH characters and the OC.

Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters belong to Himaruya. This is purely fan-made, fictional and non-profit.

**PS: **Pay attention to certain hints in the letter from the flashbacks. Can you guess who it is for? Or what the content really means? I'm curious of what you think!

Now... **Enjoy!** Roger that? Laura, over and out.

* * *

**Chapter II**

The bush moved violently as the creature jumped out of it. With the agility of a predator, it landed a few meters from them, taking a pose which screamed danger at close range. It looked, indeed, different than any species the nations had seen or heard about, but somehow a mix of what they knew of. It had the body of a feline, covered by lemony hair. Snowy fur hugged its ankles and the same fur almost formed a mane. Almost like a little lion, one might say. Almost. There came the funny part – the tail, the tail sheathed by white scales, resembling the skin of a reptile with accuracy. Its claws weren't at sight anymore, but England knew better than to be fooled by appearance. He had seen those claws, moreover, what had claws, had sharp teeth too.

The wild being lowered its upper half, preparing for another jump. Yet it didn't make any step. Perhaps it was waiting for them to move, to see their reaction, to judge where it was more advantageous to strike. Perhaps it acted on instinct.

Instinct or not, Arthur didn't want to give it the chance to cause any damage. He got ready to defend himself – Alfred could have defended himself against a direct attack just as well. However, instead of being suspicious, the American smiled widely as he still looked over the other's shoulder.

"So cute!"

"Huh?"

The Brit gave him a dumbfounded look. The predator had a similar judgment, seeing as it tilted its head in confusion. Alfred, instead, pulled out a baton of Snickers which he had brought along simply because he enjoyed having a little snack while readying comics, manga or watching a movie. He opened it and broke a piece of it. He held out the piece as he approached the creature.

"Don't get so close! It's a wild animal, it can be dangerous."

"Don't worry, Artie. This little guy wouldn't hurt a fly!"

The very moment America got closer than two meters, the animal bared its teeth. No, fangs. Sharp as they were, they could easily slaughter flesh.

"It will bite you."

Again, Alfred decided to ignore the warning. He had always loved animals, thus he had always been loved back by them. Except that one time at the zoo when he really shouldn't have crossed the safety line with an ice cream in hand. Damn monkey – it had stolen his ice cream!

Ahem. 'This little guy' proved not as peaceful, nor as playful as the monkey. It launched for the blond's hand, fangs ready to stick into the flesh and rip it apart. It didn't like the closeness, considering it a threat. Luckily, Alfred's instinct kicked in and he withdrew his hand in time.

"Alright, alright, I got it." He thought for a moment, then pushed his hand forward once more. Now, however, he stopped at a certain distance and just waited for the creature to approach on his own. "No need to be afraid. It's just yummy Snickers."

Behind him, Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples. His former colony represented a self-danger. Acting so carelessly, so childish, so reckless… that meant asking to get bitten. It worried him, but at the same time it would result in a better learned lesson than five minutes of scolding that would go in through one ear and go out through the other. Maybe, just maybe, he could let Alfred see for himself that wild animals do bite when hungry or when feeling threatened. Or maybe not. No, better not. He couldn't be sure of how dangerous those fangs could be; how sharp or even poisonous.

But the creature didn't attack again. It stared at the man's happy face for a little too long, analyzing his intentions based on his expressions and movements. He waited, though. Didn't urge it, didn't try to force things, didn't invade its space – just waited. It made a step towards him; a small and hesitant step. It sniffed the piece of baton, then the hand offering it. The being checked the quality of the food with the tip of its tongue – a snake-like muscle, which caused the Brit to wonder about venin in those fangs once more. It smelled good. Although unfamiliar, this kind of sweet tasted delicious. The predator scanned the American once more before stealing the piece of baton and running a few meters away. It waited a moment to see if the blond was going to chase it before chewing on the sweet. That snaky tongue flickered over lips as crimson eyes landed on something brown, long and crispy sticking out from the man's pocket. It looked much like the piece of food, only bigger. With something that sounded like a shriek, it ran to Alfred and crawled on his shoulder.

"See?" America laughed as the animal licked his cheek. "Everyone loves Snickers! This guy is no danger!"

"It is a danger for your supplies, at least."

Alfred gave him a curious look, which he also shrugged off in no time. He reached for the remained baton only to notice that it had disappeared from his pocket. Snickers don't vanish in thin air! And judging by Arthur's slightly amused face, the thief lay right on his shoulder.

"Hey, that's my Snickers!" He napped his head to the creature, which watched him innocently. The baton it held with its tail and which it nibbled on was glaring its guilt. He sighed. "I can't be mad at you… So!" He turned to England. "Can I keep him?"

"Su- What, no!"

"Isn't he cute?"

"It's a wild animal, not a pet. We don't even know _what_ it is."

"C'mon, dude! He's harmless!"

"It tried to bite you a minute ago! It may see you as its meal."

"He was just scared! Just look at him?" As if on clue, the creature faked another innocent look with large eyes pleased for a positive response. "Can that face hurt anyone?"

"Yes, America, it can. Wild animals are called wild for a reason; you cannot tame them."

"But, Artie!" Alfred whined, making the same face as the predator on his shoulder. The face that had always gotten him what he wanted from Arthur. "Pretty please with cherry on top?" Indeed, the Brit had a hard time trying to resist. Trying. He failed. "Thanks, dude! I'm gonna call him… Bob!"

"Bob?"

"Bob! He looks like a Bob!"

"Creative, indeed… How do you even know it's a male?"

"You wanna check?"

"Bob it is!"

* * *

_Jan 11, 2017_

Alfred leaned back on his chair, a coke bottle in on hand and a stick in the other. In front of him, the world map covered a large part of the wall. He trailed the stick along the map, sketching different routes to attack Russia undetected. He had figured a good amount of them so far, although not all of them would have been efficient. The point wasn't only to attack, but to also win with little casualties. Yes, he might have been reckless at times. Yes, he might have been impulsive. And yes, maybe his hurt pride after the latest event bugged him to officially start the war. That, however, didn't mean he planned on wasting troops or resources. No, he wanted as little casualties as possible. While he wouldn't have admitted it aloud, Stalin had done one good thing to him – reminded him that strategy was important. He would have sent his troops on the field without a second thought, for they were numerous and well-trained. But number wasn't enough, he had learned that after rereading the reports from the Second World War. Among everyone, Russia had lost the most soldiers just because Stalin went for the number principle. Outnumber your enemy and you defeat him. It may have been true, but at what cost? America was not going to do the same mistake, to lose millions of people if he could help it.

That still didn't mean he agreed with Russia on anything. Or that his worst enemy provided even one useful thing. No, he wouldn't say that.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

Alfred spun around in his chair to look at the two men that had just burst into his office. White House was a hard place to get into, but this base was even supposed to be secret. Apparently, it didn't remain a secret for Arthur. Or Francis. He could understand the Brit – no, he had expected the Brit to make an appearance soon and complain at him for doing something stupid, call him an idiot, try to make him change his mind and eventually give up. But what was France doing there?

"For once, this frog is right."

America raised an eyebrow. Had these two just agreed on something? _Oh, man… that's bad._ A scolding was undoubtedly awaiting at the door.

"With an hour before signing a treaty, you declare war? Do you have any idea how hard we've worked to find something convenient for both sides? For the whole Europe, in fact. I had to work with _him_" the Frenchman pointed accusingly at Arthur. "for months!"

"That's a mutual feeling, but that's of less importance now. America, do you know what you got yourself into?"

"Nous."

"Right, us."

"But, guys, it's for the best!"

"Pour le meilleur? How's war for the best?"

"Well… think about Napoleon! He brought you glory and power through war, those were the best times for you! And, Artie, you think about your empire days, you've gained territories through war too!" Alfred rose from his chair, slamming his hands on the desk. "Before you argue, I'm not fighting for territories! I'm fighting for freedom and justice!" He hurled his hand towards the map. "We can't let Russia have all that, can we? He took Crimea, he wants Ukraine… what's next? I'll tell you want – the Europe. We have to stop him before he gets too strong!"

"War is not the only way, Amerique. There's a thing called diplomacy."

"Fuck diplomacy. Can papers defend you against armies? No! Be sure Russia won't fight you with papers, but with armies! Documents or not, let's not forget that we had a deal and he was forbidden to take – conquer – any country! The independent countries which had been part of USSR are… independent! And they must stay independent! They must stay free! As members of NATO, it's our duty to support our allies!"

"Oui, c'est vrai, mais…" France muttered, more like thinking aloud than approving. Alfred had a point, indeed, but Francis wasn't too willing to take the risk. He still preferred diplomacy and peace – it served him rather well so far. "We don't know it for sure. Let's not forget that all this mess started with Ukraine being about to join NATO."

"Whatever floats your boat, dude. I know Russia has been preparing for this for years, tho', and joining NATO is just a pretext, so they can say we're the bad guys."

Francis glanced at England, who seemed caught in his own thoughts. He assumed that the other was also balancing the things, figure out what they should do. Eventually, he sighed.

"France is a member of NATO, thus we'll participate _if_ it is compulsory. However, consider it as a last resort. Angleterre, toi?"

"I'd like a private word with America. Leave us."

Normally, the Frenchman would have complained about being bossed around by England. This time, though, he didn't mind it. More like, he didn't care about it. He could have used some time alone too, time to think about how to get out of this mess unscratched, for he was sure that at some point, he'd be required to enter the war. Now what would have been the best way to avoid it? If any at all.

Once left with only his former colony, Arthur pulled a chair in front of the desk. Lowering himself on the chair, he took a moment to bore into Alfred's eyes. To search for any hint of doubt. On the contrary, he was faced with a stern expression and a determination that he hadn't seen in decades. Perhaps it was good, perhaps it was awful.

"Are you aware of what you're getting yourself into? War is not a game. It could lead to devastating consequences."

America rolled his eyes and slid back on his chair.

"I've been through war before, Artie. I know what it means."

"Fool, you know nothing! If you are so willing to start another war, nor you or Russia know what it means. Or the costs of it. This could very well be the Third World War, considering that you have NATO and Russia has his own allies. With the military improvements from now, it could be worse than-"

"Why did you improve your troops? If it wasn't for battle, what was it for?"

"Defending."

"Then put them at work! That's what I'm doing here too!"

"You're only defending your influence. You may fool France, you may fool the whole Europe, the whole world, but you can't fool me. I know you too well. So don't give me the excuse you throw at everyone. This is not about Ukraine, is it? It's for power."

"You talk like I'm the bad guy here…"

"I didn't mean it like that. For someone to be the bad guy, there has to be a good guy – right now, none of you is. As much as I wish I could interfere with your decision, it seems I can't, but you're dragging more people into this. It's not fair for you two to do that for your selfish purposes."

"Tell me you don't think Russia wants to take his former territories back. Oh, I forgot, you can't… 'cause you think so too!"

"I'm not mistaking Russia for an angel – of course I think he wants power too! But war should be only used as a last option. You should not recourse to war unless you have the certainty that you can win."

"I never said it would be easy! But I can win! I know I can! C'mon, dude, where's that attitude you used to have? You used to be a goddamned empire, what happened to you? What, are you scared of Russia?"

"I am not scared. I just came to realize that, in the end, war is not auspicious to anybody. I've been an empire, I've risen through won and I fell by pride. Right now, you go down the same path too. Just like I did, you think you can face anyone and win without consequences. You're impulsive and reckless, you could go blindly into a battle you can't win. What if that would be the decisive one? What if you get hit so hard that you won't be able to get up? I know you are strong, but I also know that you don't know much about Russia's military."

"Wrong! I know everything about Russia's military! I've been spying on him since the Cold War! You know, just in case…"

"That's a relief, I suppose. What if you got false information, though?"

"No way, dude! I sent some of my best agents!"

"Maybe, but there's always a chance that your spies switched sides. Or that they have been fooled."

"Geez, you really know how to cheer up a guy…"

"I'm just taking it seriously, which you don't seem to be doing."

"I haven't lost one war! I know how to deal with it! I have everything fixed to the last detail, alright? I _am_ taking it seriously!" Alfred huffed annoyed, folding his arms. "So are you with me or not?"

Arthur sighed heavily. "I am. I always will."

America grinned widely in return. It was what he hoped for, what he should have been expecting, but always hold the fear that one day he might be wrong about it. That one day England would get tired of the troubles he made. He didn't really think he'd be let down, but the fear was still bugging him.

"But… if I were to lose," His smile disappeared, turning into a thoughtful expression. "What would you do?"

"… I guess I'd go down with you."

* * *

_Jan 12, 2017_

In 24 hours, the news about USA declaring war to Russia had traveled across the whole world. It appeared on every channel, in every newspaper, on every politic or economical site and even on social networks. The subject had gained millions of views, thousands of comments. People praised or cursed the politicians who had taken the bloody decisions. Some embraced the news with joy, some hurried to enroll in the army, hoping for glory on the battlefield. Some hide their worry under a fake laugh, some mourned peace, some strengthen themselves for tough times. And some kept watching TV without a care.

Aside from the public population, officers and politicians alike had gathered behind locked doors. Time to make new plans had come. Time to get people killed was soon to come too. Time to get a safety net, time to get citizen ready for war, time to prepare an emergency escape, time to count the soldiers and medics, time to check the equipment, time to make sure you had enough supplies, time to get used to the idea that tomorrow might have never come.

Time to learn to survive.

The following day, the confirmation of the rising of war hit. United Kingdom announced their support for USA, affirming that the Americans hold the right in this situation, that they chose to fight by the justice's side and their purpose lay in protecting their friend-countries, as well as the humans' rights to freedom and choice. A couple hours later, Belarus pronounced their alliance with Russia, claiming that all they did was protect themselves against the American influence, against their misleading techniques and last but not least that USA had broken the deal the two nations had had by being pro to include Ukraine into NATO.

Who was right, though? None, for in war there's no right and no wrong.

* * *

_July 8, 2019_

_Dear Mother,_

'_I finally got the chance to write to you. I am doing well here, I get along well with my colleagues. I hope you are also doing fine and my sisters help you with the chores._

_Do not worry about the weather; it is calm so far. I hadn't seen any cloud on the sky for weeks, not even from the west, as the meteorologists feared. I woke up every morning by the chirp of birds. There are thousands! I've counted about 2300 already and I've seen 2 new kinds of birds this morning. They are beautiful really, even with their large black wings and slim body and sharp beak. But they are strong, each of them carried two babies that must have been 4.4 lbs. But you should see the yellow ones; they are much like the ones we have at home, but they are faster and lighter. But the bees – they are very annoying! They sting painfully and there must be roughly 200 in the hive._

_Speaking of animals, I've spotted one bear. I'm sure there are more, I've heard people whispering about them. They might be exaggerating, since they said there were about 400 bears. I doubt it. I don't think they afford to feed all those bears._

_I wish the marshal would be more open, more… friendly. He's awkward with socialization… At least the general is more willing to hang out with the units. And everyone here drinks beer too, as expected. I heard that packs of Coca-Cola are on the way too, they are going to arrive tomorrow. I assume their fabricants have an offer too, otherwise I don't see why they'd go through the trouble. I'm curious if their offer is any good._

_I don't have anything more to say at the moment. I'm looking forward to your reply._

_Best regards,_

_Karl.'_

Karl put the pen aside with a satisfied smile. That would do it. He packed the letter and added the destination: Sitzendorf. Only, the real destination wasn't Sitzendorf or any other German village. It provided as a good cover, so no one would be suspicious about his letters to 'Mother'. Five minutes later, the officer handed the envelope to the delivery man. Said man had been delivering spy letters for the past decade and his superior was very pleased with him. Karl had no reason to worry that the information wouldn't arrive at the correct destination.

* * *

_July 30, 2019_

The world lay at their feet. A red soldier here, a blue one there, a green one on the Pacific, a yellow one on the Atlantic, a black one on the Arctic Ocean and others strategically placed on the map. Eight leaders stared down at it, discussing plans to attack their enemies. Not all of them aimed to crush, but to weaken or confuse.

China pushed the yellow soldier on Japan. He had wanted to get his former protégé out of the way for some months now. North Korea, on the other hand, aimed to defeat his brother. Pakistan and Iraq insisted on going straight to the States, while Turkey and Belarus preferred to move further into Europe. Greece had less airs, he didn't care who the next target was, as long as the territories with opening at the Sea would belong to him by the end. Hence why he napped a little during their little arguments.

"South Korea threatens that he has nuclear bombs!" North Korea sustained his point, moving the blue soldier on the selected country.

"So has Japan! Perhaps we should take them both down, aru." China joined in, earning an approving nod from his colleague.

"Our main problem here is NATO, not Asia." Belarus interfered, pointing at the European continent. Next to her, Turkey agreed rather enthusiastically before taking a long sip of apple juice to treat his dry throat.

Each of them brought pro and contra arguments and, on a certain level, from a certain point of view, they were all valid. Nevertheless, each of these countries followed their own later interest. They all wanted to take down their own competition while beneficiating of the allies' powers. It was a fair trade, wasn't it? Help your allies to get their help.

Unlike the rest of them, Russia remained silent ever since they had placed the toy soldiers on the map. His eyes were glued to one nation in particular, to the United States of America, to the one that had caused him much more troubles than he had been willing to deal with. He had tried to mend things with Europe, to befriend them; he had bit his tongue and just smiled whenever America played the big hero who would save everyone for the sake of it; he had overlooked their 'little slips', pretending not to remember that they signed not to include any other nation into NATO, to not get any territorially closer to his country, in exchange for East Germany; the media propaganda which put his people in the bad light at least half the time. But he'd be damned if he gave up a border country! He'd be damned if he gave Ukraine. That was the bottom line – besides, he had a lot to win back by facing them, although with a high risk of casualties too. His lips pressed into a tight line at the thought. It was true that Ukraine was also a pretext, a reason to start a war and have some people seeing him in a brighter light rather than the evil dictator who wanted turn the world communist. Yes, maybe there were important amounts of resources that he could put at well use. Yes, maybe he was aiming to reclaim his former territories. Yes, maybe he just sick of their crap. Yes, maybe he was just possessive. Yes to many others, but that did _not_ mean that he didn't care about his older sister. Who did they take him as? One of the British brothers? He still couldn't comprehend how they kept fighting each other, but neither had he given it much thought.

Ivan Braginski rose on his feet. Little attacks here and there to countries that had no major influence alone wouldn't win the war. They needed to break down the king, then all his chess pieces would scatter around, disoriented and intimidated, ready to submit just to survive. There were only two titans on the globe; there would be left only one. He would crush his enemy once and for all.

"Brother?"

"_No._ South Korea will not fire any nuclear bomb, it is just as dangerous for them as it is for the rest of us. Not the whole Europe, or the NATO nations, is a real danger. Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania won't make a stand, I made sure of that. Poland might do, but not without being in self-defense, his army is not enough strong enough to risk. If you want Poland, do as you wish, but I suggest you to wait for now. Same goes for the half the Europe. They are mere pawns. Those who pose a threat are" Russia moved two soldiers "Norway and Denmark, their navies are in the Arctic Ocean and their number seems to increase. The bases in Siberia will take care of them." He placed the green soldier on the Italian coast. "Italy has joined USA a couple months ago, but we only need to worry about their ships. I'm sure Turkey would love to play with them a little more. Finally," Ivan put a third toy on England. "There's the United Kingdom. So far, these are all the countries that NATO gets a military support worth considering. Other supplies come from Japan, Canada, Australia and India."

Russia made a small pause as he twisted the remained soldiers in his hand.

"Let's take them down, _da_?" His lips curled into a sweet smile, although his eyes reflected only mischief and danger. "America may be their 'king', but he's nothing without them. Cut their supplies first with minor attacks, retreat quickly, weaken them slowly. Meanwhile, get your real army ready. Then we'll give them the final attack."

"What about Spain?" Turkey demanded, still holding a grudge for his lost ships. "France? Germany? Whole Africa?"

"Spain, France, Germany, Sweden, Finland, Switzerland and Portugal declared themselves neutral, aru. The African nations are not very fond of NATO. I know some that want to take our side, aru."

After a few more minutes, they settled on Russia's plan. However, like any good general, he only told the part of his plan that sounded convenient to the others. They departed with a shake of hand and platonic goodbyes.

Ivan let out a sigh. The meeting with his allies ended, now came the part that would most likely give him a headache.

"Sister… where can I get something fluffy and cute for a br- old _comrade _from?"

"Something fluffy…?" For once, Belarus gave him the weirdest of looks.

* * *

During the whole way, there had been a constant tension between Arthur and Bob.

For one, Arthur didn't trust Bob, expecting it to bite down on its now master at anytime. The fact that it was still resting on Alfred's shoulder only made the worry worse. A predator was a predator, after all, right? And instincts were instincts, moreover knowing that they didn't have any food, except from the half of baton that America managed to save from the creature.

Then, Bob didn't like Arthur. Maybe it felt the animosity. Maybe it was intuition. Whatever it was, it made him see Arthur as a rival. Or maybe the true issue lay in the closeness that seemed to be between the two men. Definitely. It saw in the blond competition.

As for America… well, he was oblivious to the negative start they had.

To make things worse, it was growing harder and harder to see by the minute. Most of the time, the vegetation prevented the sight of the sky, drowning the jungle into a dim light. Now, the dark was so thick that one could almost cut it with a knife. Adding to the lack of large vision, the exotic plants became a huge impediment. The path had already been hard enough to follow! Alfred ripped another liana that happened to block their way. Something sharp would have been very useful! Behind him, Bob kept trying to get Arthur's nose with its tail while Arthur attempted to catch the damn tail.

After what felt like an eternity, the path opened up into a circular glade. It was small, but the grass was short, making it a bunch easier to walk. The glade ended with a cave; it was hard to guess how deep it went or if anything lay there. On the other hand, it provided a 'roof' over the head and it would also leave just one direction an attack could have been launched from. Based on Bob's lack of reaction at the cave, they assumed it was empty.

"Dude, what died in here?"

Alfred kept his nose as they made another step inside. The scent was dreadful – a mix of something rotten and a hint of morning breath, but it only grew bothering once one walked deeper into the cave. Otherwise, it wouldn't take long to get used to it. At least, the smell chased away America's hunger and his stomach's growling. A good thing for his companions who had probably had enough of his complains. While he tried to accommodate to the smell – curse his good nose! -, Arthur went deeper, checking for any other living beings. Mostly blinded by the darkness, he stepped on something. At first he didn't know what it was, although it was definitely nothing alive. Something thin and… liquid? It felt thicker than water, yet still partly liquid. He sniffed the air and the realization hit him instantly. He remembered this scent all too well from the battlefield. Clotted blood. Clotted by the time. Squeezing his eyes, he managed to figure out the creature that had bled out.

"I think I found what died in here!" The blond called to the others. "Looks like a wolf!" He didn't turn to the sound of steps approaching.

"Y' know, I said I was hungry…" Alfred mumbled glancing over his shoulder. His lips twisted into a line of disgust, well reflected into the way the words rolled lazily off his tongue. "But I _ain't _eating that."

"Agreed." The Brit deadpanned as he turned on his heels, heading for the outside. "I'm thinking about some fish, if that's fine with you-"

"Sounds great!" The American beamed, rushing past his companion.

In the process, Bob lost its balance, flying off his shoulder and landing in front of the other blond. They stared at each other with a face that read 'So it's just you and me' – not in a peaceful way. After a solemn moment of glaring, the creature turned around and raised his tail at Arthur, then hurried. How dared it?! England took a slow breath; the annoying animal was lucky to have Alfred, otherwise they would have had fried Bob at dinner. Speaking of Alfred, it didn't take the older nation much to realize that he would return soon, for he didn't know where any lake was. If there was any, that was. Reason argued there must have been some because one could find lakes in any vast forest. While a jungle – or whatever this place represented – didn't share all the attributes with a forest, the constant of animals existed. Animals drank water, therefore there must have been a source of water. Hence, a lake. Where was a lake, there was fish.

But where food was, there were predators.

It was fine, though. Alfred could defend himself, right? He'd been through war, he'd encountered a dozen enemies, he had survived Arthur's food for over two hundred years – he could face a predator. This only reminded the Brit about their first meeting and about the wild boar which the American literally threw away. That had been one good throw! Either way, he could have defended himself in a direct fight. Hopefully, there weren't crocodiles hunting, if he found the lake.

While he waited for Alfred's return, England decided to make a resemblance of a bed. There were so many leaves, why not use them as sheets? It was better than sleeping on bare ground. They would give a certain amount of warmth and a thicker layer of them would reduce the roughness of the ground. With this in mind, Arthur began gathering plants. He paid attention not to pick up any with the smallest of chances of being poisonous or itching. One from here, one from there until he collected enough for two 'sheets'. They still didn't have anything to serve them as blanket, but the cave would minimize the wind's intensity. Moreover, having only one opening, the temperature inside was a little higher. The air was also denser, harder to breathe than the fresh forest outside but nothing they too hard to be dealt with. He proceeded to arrange the plants near the mouth of the cave.

Heavy steps marched outside, a mix of annoyance and hesitation. Arthur sighed – it must have been Alfred… empty-handed. One glance behind confirmed his supposition. There, in the pale light of the moon and scratching the back of his head with the half-smile of a child who had done something silly, stood the nation who many felt intimidated by. There stood the one who had grown up over the night. There stood the kid who used to run and hug Arthur at each return from another one of his privateer expeditions. There stood the kid who used to ask him to stay after every one of those returns. There stood the teen who had urged him to leave, who had won his independency through blood and tears. There stood the teen who had broken his heart in a year more than anyone else had managed in centuries. Tore it out, shattered it, collected the pieces and stuck it back only to tear it out again. There stood the young man who had indirectly abandoned him in the hands of the enemies, but who had also interfered to help him out. There stood the nation who had brought happiness and serenity to thousands, and death and desperation upon just as many. There stood the one who never looked back twice. There stood the man who had faced everything his adversaries had thrown at him to achieve his goals. There stood the man who possessed the most honest smile, but also the man who faked a smile to hide his real thoughts. There stood the grown up man who could so swiftly switch to childish behavior and back.

There stood the man who would always bawl about being the hero. Everyone's hero. Arthur's hero.

There stood the man who could drive him mad in less than a second. There stood the man who could bring a smile to his face even in the most sorrowful of times. There stood the man who made him worried for the most foolish of things. There stood the man who could comfort him with just a few words without even knowing it. There stood the man who he still held a grudge against, but also the man who he would never let down. There stood his sweetest dream and his worst nightmare. There stood the man who he both loved and hated.

And there stood the man whom he was proud of.

There stood the man whom he would never tell all those things to.

"Sorry, dude, I couldn't find any fish..."

His eyes softened and small smile tugged at Arthur's lips, not because of the lack of dinner, but because of some fold old memories. The happy ones.

"It's fine, we'll find something tomorrow." Resting his hands on his knees, the blond straightened up. His fingers found their way in Alfred's hair, ruffling it like one would do to a child.

"Hey!" The American pushed his hand away. "Don't do that!"

It was only then that they realized the actual gesture. Arthur almost slapped himself for acting on feelings. Alfred, on the other hand, stopped trying to bring his locks to their former situation and stared at the Brit. It was confusing, for England hadn't done that in ages.

"Artie… are you-"

But Arthur cleared his throat before the younger had the chance to finish. "Care to find something that can hold water?" He waved his hand in a dismissing way, not facing his former colony.

America blinked once. Twice.

"Uhm…sure…"

It was strange, too strange. He let it go, though, blaming it on the fall. Yeah, that must have been it! 'Artie' must have been a little light-headed due to the fall. There was no way it could be anything else. Satisfied with the trivial explanation, he proceeded to find something curved. A shell or a bent piece of wood would have been great.

Ten feet away, England thought his plan over again. They didn't have food – nor could tell make fried Bob because Alfred would have been vehemently against it. Alright, people had survived without dinner. Hell, he himself had skipped meals while being on battlefield or under attack so often that he didn't get the time to eat. There had also been that period when food had been limited due to the Nazis blowing up any commercial ship – at that time, he preferred to lie that he had eaten or that he wasn't hungry, so his portion remained to his people. Guess what, though? He survived! So not having one dinner would kill him or America. Moreover, countries had more endurance than normal people.

But water. Well, that was a whole different matter. The lack of that vital liquid would have been a problem. To be honest with himself, his raw throat just screamed for something to gratify the thirst. Hence the plan: anything alive had water in their system, thus they could use the water comprised into the surrounding plants. For that, he had to squeeze it out of them and collect it into something.

_Clack._

Arthur lost his balance for a moment, but managed to regain it before collapsing. He brought his hand to his head, rubbing the abused spot. Damn, it hurt! What hit him, anyway? Looking down, he received his answer: a fruit. Or what looked like a fruit. It looked like a mango, only larger. A shrill laughter taunted his ears from somewhere above. Green eyes narrowed – why did he have the feeling that he knew who the culprit was? He raised his head.

"Why, you little…?" He growled under his breath, eye twitching at the creature laughing and pointing at him. "Come down here, you bloody bugger!"

Bob stuck out his tongue, angering him even further. He picked up the fruit with the intention to throw it back at the assailant, but the animal shrieked and made the wise decision of scampering away from the branch. It jumped on Alfred's shoulder again and even crawled on his head, inevitable pulling on his hair. With a new row of guts, it bared its teeth and growled at the Brit. The American, instead, startled, instinctively reached for what landed on him. However, he didn't get angry, but laughed at the animal. If only he knew how much _not_ innocent it was, Arthur thought. The older nation huffed – now he couldn't throw the fruit at Bob. It deserved a lesson but he couldn't risk hitting the blond too.

"Dude, where did you get that?" America bawled, pointing at the fruit.

Bob pulled on the golden locks, this time on purpose, to draw attention. Then it climbed on the tree, disappearing between thick layers of branches and leaves.

_That's right. Run away, spawn of-_

Before Arthur could properly enjoy the moment, before he could celebrate the departure, the creature came back into sight. _Shite._ It cried out a heads-up in its own language, then tossed two more mango-like fruits to Alfred. It didn't aim for the head, it aimed for the arms. The American caught them with easy.

"See? I told you we should keep him!" He grinned, keeping up the fruits.

"Whatever." Arthur folded him arms. "I'd like to see how it provides water."

Bob made a noise and shot a second fruit to England's head. Only now, the Brit caught it._ Not again._ Had he been immature, he would have grinned childishly at its pout. He was a little above that, though. But Bob grabbed one of the fruits and smashed it on the ground, liquid oozing out. It might have not been water, but it would have appeased them.

"Curse my luck…"

The Universe wanted to prove him wrong, didn't it? Apparently, so did his sore throat. So swallowing his pride in favor of his needs, Arthur cut open the fruit remained with the help of a stone. God, how good it felt to quench his thirst! He drank all the juice in one go. It might have looked like mango, but it wasn't mango. It was something else, something he had never tasted before; delicious nonetheless.

With that problem solved for both men, they took a seat on the bunch of leaves scattered on the cave's ground like some sheets. The Brit didn't get to prepare two 'beds' yet – he'd do it after they ate. So they sat shoulder by shoulder, each digging into his fruit. Although it didn't seem like much, it did a great job in filling their bellies. They would take some more of those when they would set out the following morning. Now both leaned back against the cold wall, leaving the empty shells somewhere at their sides.

"Do you want the first watch or should I take it? It would be wise if one of us stayed awake, in case something hungry passes by."

"Sure, dude, I take it." Alfred mumbled, trying to hold back a yawn. One didn't need much brain to guess he was already half asleep.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah, you go get some sleep."

"Alright…"

However, five minutes later, it was America who slept like a baby. Arthur had seen it coming, hence he just kept his eyes closed and remained awake. A soft snore confirmed him that the younger drifted deep into the Dreamland. Yet he didn't open his eyes; with the pitched dark surrounding them, his sight would have been of no help. His muscles relaxed and unable to sustain a sitting position, Alfred slid against the wall as much as the body next to him allowed. England glanced at his shoulder when he felt something lying on it. He smiled fondly at the sight: Alfred's cheek rested on his shoulder, eyes shut, lips slightly parted and breath slipping through them in small puffs as his chest rose and fell steadily. His face betrayed nothing but serenity. It was just adorable. He smiled and wrapped his hand around the Alfred's shoulder to steady him.

_Snarl_.

Arthur looked around only to see crimson orbs glaring at him. Bob plumped up in what appeared to be jealousy. Ah, the Brit had won this one. However, he was not willing to enjoy his victory right now; it would have ruined the moment. He couldn't prevent the smirk, though, nor the honey voice that hold a little bit of satisfaction and tease.

"Piss off."

* * *

**A/N:** I hope I got them right. Honestly, it's the first time I'm writing most of them. Criticism, advance, praise... everything's welcomed! So don't hold back and _review_ (ahem, you've seen the happy outcome of it, right?) !

Also, did you pay attention to the letter? What do you think? Who's Karl sending it to? What is it about? There were clues, if you picked them.

Last but not least, if there are any FrUK fans: I'm also working on some FrUK fic &amp; a one-shot with FACE family. If you like that, keep an eye open!


	3. Permission and mislead

**Permission to repost and misleading**

Sorry, guys, this is not a new chapter. More** important**, though!

**I have given my permission to repost** my stories, posted here, on other sites or WIPs that are yet to be posted. To whom? **To pro-roleplay on Tumblr.** Yes, I'm aware she reposted fragments. Yes, I'm aware some are credited and some aren't. **I requested** those few not to be credited! Why? Because I'm not the most confident writer out there and sometimes I just want to know people's opinion without worrying about embarrassing myself or being shamed for what I like.

**Do not accuse people of stealing without checking!**

Thank you to those who took the five minutes it takes to message me and inform or ask me about whether I was aware of my stories being reposted. This announcement(?) is to answer all those 22 messages. That is what you should do before throwing mud at someone!

To those 78 anons who sent her hate messages - check your facts. Just because some big ass blog assumes she's been stealing doesn't mean she has. I don't care how it started, what the argument was about, I don't care about your reasons behind giving people such ideas. It isn't right! It's not just lying but also misinforming people, misleading them and defaming. Doesn't matter what blog or person you do this to, it still isn't right. Being popular doesn't give you the right to defame people without true facts and proofs. Sending hate or accusing further because you read it somewhere doesn't make it right either.

Take five minutes. **Ask the writer. **You might be surprised but some people ask for permission before they repost something and some writers give said permission.

Yes, I know she doesn't see anything bad in reposting as long as the artist is credited. I've known her for a few years; I've discussed quite a few things. I don't mind smoking. Do I smoke? No. She doesn't mind reposting. Does that equal with doing the action without permission? No. Is it possible? Yes. Is it mandatory? No. See my point? Check your suppositions or information before you start throwing mud. There's a long way between not minding an action and doing that action.

**Words can cause more damage than punches. **Words are strong, especially online. Seeing as she hasn't reposted without permission, she's safe of getting her account shut or anything. What about reputation, though? That's hard if not impossible to clean when there are a dozen people making the same statements, even without proof, and spreading the word. Spreading the lies. Will the 100th person who sees that statement check its validity? Maybe. But maybe not, because 99 people had stated it before so it must be true.

In this case, those words damaged reputation. However, there are worse cases when it's not the reputation getting hurt. **Feelings get hurt.** People can take things to the heart. Don't throw bad words so easily; you don't know what the person you attack has been through. **People get hurt. **"You look fat in that dress." I would shrug and change my dress. What about a person who's been bullied for being plump? Would that simple sentence sting or would they just shrug too? They might even take it as "Geez, you're so fat you don't fit into that dress!" See my point? I believe we have all seen just as much damage words cause, from a few minutes of feeling down to severe depression or suicide. As I said, this case is lesser and no one's feelings got hurt (though some neurones might have burnt from all that annoyance).

Back to the topic at hand: **False accusations, misleading and defaming are not okay. Spreading lies and starting fake rumours are not okay. Hinting without proof or as much as a five minutes check that someone has stolen something is not okay. Sending hate is bullying (in most cases) and bullying is not okay. It doesn't matter who you are or who you direct your statements towards.**

To everyone reading this, those who have dealt with similar situations and those who haven't, I feel the need to say this: **Do not let people act like that towards you. Don't let people disrespect you or defame you.** Doesn't matter who they are, doesn't matter where or when they do it.** Block them.** If they continue: **Report them.** If they defamed one based on assumptions and without checking, they might do it to others too. I'm not saying they will, but they might. You might not care because that's not you but put yourself in the shoes of the other person. Same goes for hate messages that consist of cursing, insulting and defaming. Keep in mind that constructive criticism and disagreement are not hate.

And if it isn't clear yet: **I have given my permission to repost to pro-roleplay**. **LauraFictionOfficial** (Wattpad) and **laura-fiction** (Tumblr) are my accounts, thus you might find my stories there too. So far I haven't posted anything and chances are I won't post fan-fictions there.

To people who are interested in** reposting my stories**, I give you **my permission** to do so only under **three simple rules**:

1\. Don't claim it as yours. Credit me and link to my profile or to the original post of the story.

2\. Do not edit my work without asking me for permission before you repost.

3\. Let me know that you reposted or intend to repost. Send me a link to the post. That way I can see people's opinions too. Don't repost them on the same webside I posted them, though.

*If you intend to repost on adult sites, ask me directly before. I might or I might not approve it.

Failing to respect these rules will result in a polite request to delete the repost. If you refuse, I'll have to contact the website's staff.

Please alert me if you notice someone reposting without respecting these rules. Besides the accounts I've already mentioned, of course.

Thank you for reading this far!


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